Not Enchanted
by Glassmith
Summary: Autumn weather brings autumn mood. Drama, tragedy, parody, angst.
1. Chapter 1

It was the season of autumn. Smurfs in the Smurf Village were making preparations in the change of seasons. The forest changed the colors. The geese wer flying south for the winter. Rainy clouds were on the horizon. A group of Smurfs was raking up leaves. Grouchy was frustrated. Jokey was annoying as usual, picking up on Grouchy. The slow wind was blowing. Unlucky Clumsy got the dust blown directly in his eyes, making him dropping the tool, making step forward, tripping over the pebble into the puddle. Sloppy Smurf head off into the nearby bushes to take a snack. Soon he was feasting with his pet fly on the rotten fruit. Smurfette was raking up leaves. Baby Smurf was near her sitting watching her raking up leaves. For a moment Smurfette lifted her view up to watch the autumn sky. Baby Smurf at that moment crawled onto the pile of leaves. He started playing up with leaves, throwing them in the air and around, happily cooing "weeee". Smurfette turned her head down, seeing the blue menace. She scolded him. The brat started crying. To calm him Smurfette told him not to cry and that she loves him. She was frustrated. She thought that it would be nice that the other Smurfs watch over him sometimes. Next moment she returned frome her world of thoughts to the reality. She loooked down, but there was no one there. Just the messed up pile of leaves. No Baby Smurf. While she was contemplating with her head on the tool, the little blue moron saw the flying autumn leaf, carried by the wind. Baby Smurf crawled after the leaf. Where is Baby Smurf, Smurfette thought to herself, as she nervously turned her head left and right and then looking forward to the distance, but nothing. The other Smurfs on the other edge of the glade were raking up the leaves, talking mutually, or being busy themselves, no one knowing what was going on the other far edge of the glade. They did not hear Smurfette calling the Baby Smurf, since the wind was blowing in the opposite direction. That same wind carried the leaf towards the Smurf River. The Baby Smurf crawled further away, far enough and behind the curve, having fun with the leaf, focused solely on it, not hearing Smurfettes frantic calls. While Smurfette was checking every bush around the glade, Baby Smurf reached the Smurf River Bridge. Exactly when the wind stopped blowing. Just at the moment when the fallen leaf was above the bridge. Losing the propulsion, the mottled autumn leaf fell on the dusty bridge and stopped moving. Baby Smurf has never been closer to the leaf and became even more excited. He accelerated with the crawling towards it. But the brief windless situation was the sign of the wind change. Next moment the wind changed direction and now was not blowing in the direction of the road, but turned at right angle. First the wind blew shortly to the side of the bridge, pushing the leaf just on the bridge surface. Baby Smurf approached closer, excited with the chance of finally catching his prize, his mouth widely opened and saying "waaaa". The wind blew again, this time somewhat faster, lifting the leaf up and off the bridge over the fence. Baby Smurf lifted his one arm and stretched it towards the leaf, crawling at the same time after it, passing under the fence. The wind lifted the leaf more upwards, but Baby Smurf could not follow him. Smurflingly focused on the leaf, he did not saw that there was no ground under him. Almost running while crawling on three legs, he got the inertion that carried him more, giving him no chance. Losing the ground, he fell off the bridge. Smurfette was on the footpath three pumpkins away, franticly running towards the bridge, when she saw the scene. No hope for her. Second before she saw him falling, she was running in the curve of the footpath. As she exited the curve, Baby Smurf was still on the bridge, crawling on three legs, watching up, with his arm stretched out upwards to catch the leaf being blown by the wind. She hoped that she would catch him...

But the wind change offered her the horror scene. The leaf shifted to the right, with Baby Smurf following it. She saw Baby Smurf turning sideways and making capriole. Into the void. Baby Smurf at first got excited facial expression shouting "weee", as he was in the air, next moment the face expression became confused, astonished, wondering saying "wou?", while he was still looking up. As he was falling, his body changed position, slowly rotating, from head being bent upwards, head up, and legs down, to a leveled position, watching downwards. His face turned frightened, mouth widely opened, first moment not able to say, anything, then next loudly letting the high-pitch scream "eeeee", as his body now was bent downwards, head down and legs up. Next moment face expression was panicked. Smurfette saw the whole scene. She crossed that distance quickly, reaching the bridge, outstretching her arm to catch the falling Baby Smurf, with her other hand she clenched the bridge fence, so she could hold onto something. But to no avail. It was too late. The little blue waif fell with his head first on the rock that stood above the surface. The pillars that were holding the bridge were beside that rock. The little blue waif fell faceside on the solid rock. There was a demonic "thud", sharp "crack" and abrupt end of scream. The rock breached the face, cheek and front, ripping the facial skin. Baby Smurf was down there, two pumpkins down. Smurfette was helplessly watching downwards, hugging the vertical fence bar tightly. Because of shock and adrenaline rush, her vocal strings knotted and dried, she lost her voice and she could not scream not to let any sound. Her face was in tears, while thinking "I lost him. I lost him. The Unknown Distributor will find us Smurfs as negligant, careless, lasy, unworthy. We will never have any baby Smurf ever again. I will forever live with that shame and guilt for losing our most precious Smurf." Rivers of tears were running down her face as she watched the lifeless corpse of a petit light blue smurf on a rock, as the puddle of blue smurf blood was forming around him, getting bigger and bigger, with the indigo smurf brain splattered out of the cranium.


	2. Chapter 2

In the meantime in the Smurf Village the crane Feathers suddenly lifted head up, make strange sounds by clapping the beaks together. The animal felt something, the insticts told her that, but the crane was not able to comprend it, nor to express it. "Something's wrong", said Papa Smurf. He mounted on the crane and she quickly flew towards the glade where his fellow Smurfs were on the works. Papa Smurf dismounted and Feathers flew away. Papa Smurf saw the other Smurfs doing their job. Nothing particular. Everything was OK. Everysmurf on the task on the glade was there except Smurfette and Baby Smurf. He followed the footpath that lead to the Smurf River Bridge, slowly walking, looking on all sides, looking for the missing pair. He left the forest glade, passed through the small bush and arrived at the small clearing in front of the bridge. He saw the Smurfette holding on the outer side of bridge fence, five apples from the bank on the bridge, looking downwards, in tears. Smurfs are never depressive at all, so something else was on. Papa Smurf thought to himself, "probably she lost her necklace, bracelet or a hair-pin, she is so sentimental, she cries over such trivial stuff" and smiled. Smurfette noticed Papa Smurf appearing from her side. "Did You finish raking the leaves on the bridge path?" Smurfette was not able to say anything. She looked at the Papa Smurf, then downwards. Down there there was no one. The Smurf River level in the meantime rose up from the rains in the mountains that surrounded the Great Smurf Valley. The Baby Smurf's limp corpse slided slowly off the rock and the Smurf River washed it off from the rock and took it downstream. On the rock only a puddle of Smurf blood. And unmistakable brain remains, an indigo pulp. Papa Smurf knew that he had to do something very quickly. He always has a sleeping powder with him, as a first aid. He took the trembling from the fear and shock Smurfette and sat her on the rock. He applied some powder on her and ran towards the glade, applying that powder on the other Smurfs. Fortunately, this part of the Smurf Forest is its deepest part. No human ever appeared here, so the bridge is in one piece. Although more safe from humans, bad weather and unpredictable river made it a bad choice for inhabiting. The predator animals are rare in this time of year in this time of day in this part of forest, but the sleeping Smurfs still needed a safe place for hiding. Papa Smurf was alone in this task so he quickly hid this group of Smurfs in the small mouse lodge. He had to tow the heavy limp sleeping bodies all by himself. He covered them with the leaves, branches and earth. When he finished, he blew a loud whistle, calling Feathers. He anxiously waited. Ten minutes were like an eternity. When the crane arrived, he quickly jumped on her and ordered her "Quickly to the village, as fast as You can!" They arrived at the Smurf Village fifteen minutes later. Feathers landed on a central square in the Smurf Village. "Stay hear", told Papa Smurf to Feathers and ran towards his mushroom house. "Papa Smurf, You always said that ..." said Brainy as he approached him, but Papa Smurf turned him away, "not now" Brainy and threw sleeping powder at Brainy. Brainy fall asleep instantly. Papa Smurf ran into his house, took the jug with the sleeping powder and a small bottle from the desk next to it. It was the antidote, that prevented the effect of the sleeping powder. He ran back to the square, mounted on Feathers, moved the cover from the jug and said, "Fly, Feathers!". As they were circling above the Smurf Village, Papa Smurf took the jug, and lean it. "Finally some luck, no wind here." The content of the jug dispersed over the village and soon every Smurf was sleeping. "This will give me some time", said Papa Smurf to Feathers.

Papa Smurf continued: "The Smurfs must not find out what happened. They must not know for the accidental death of the Baby Smurf. It is very difficult to undo the effects of the things that Smurfs saw. The less memory to delete, the better. With the magic potion and magic words I will remove the memory of Baby Smurf from their minds, but nothing else will be lost. When they try to comprehend what happened in things where Baby Smurf was involved, they will not be able to understand nor to remember at all. They will have a void spot in the memory and they will not feel upset because of that. But if the information about the tragical death enters their memory, it will be a big problem when eliminating that problem. Then a memory deleting potion will delete every memory from the moment they became aware that a Baby Smurf is present in our village. With the Smurfette that problem does not exist, because she is not ordinary, normal Smurf, but an artificially made Smurf, made of blue clay and magic. I must be quick with the potion, since the covering of sleeping Smurfs from the glade was a simple quick measure for the issue, but not a solution. That poses no problems for weasels, owls, hawks, foxes and other predatory animals. Somebody else had to watch over Baby Smurf. We should never let everything to fall on Smurfette's shoulders regarding Baby Smurf. The others had to offer themselves to watch over Baby Smurf so she could takes some time off from her babysitting duties, and do the other jobs. She did done more than her fair share. Because of our laziness, this happened." 


	3. Chapter 3

Papa Smurf needed to go on a big search to find the corpse, to prevent anysmurf from finding it, to prevent desecration of body by predators, or even humans finding it. He thought to himself: "The Great Distributor watches over him right now. He wants to be sure that Papa Smurf took all measures to rescue the corpse. Baby Smurfs' meat is tasty and delicious for the carnivores, and if they find out that the meat is so good, they will shift significant part of their diet from herbivores to smurfs. After several days, the smurf cadaver turns from blue to gray. Some alkaloids develop in the dead smurf body that makes it toxic. These toxins can make the predator nauseous, or make him vomit and get high temperature, have loss or appetite or so. If the predators then don't receive the proper medical help in few days, they may die. The toxins are lethal for some smaller predators. The big problem will be if some herbivores and bug eating animals taste the meat of a Baby Smurf. It is normal that herbivores and insectivores sometimes eat eggs and smaller animals like lizards and small frogs and tadpoles. Scavenger birds are immune to those toxins and that would be a "bon appetit" for them if they tear apart smurfling's corpse. Scavengers sometimes hunt smaller birds and small animals, and we definitely do not want them to focus their diet on us, thought Papa Smurf. The crocodiles are present in the Smurf River, but not in this part, but down the river in the warmer parts of the river, on lower altitudes, where the water is warmer, and warmed by the warm streams and mountain-volcano. He could not count on the help of the mermaids like Marina, since they are far away on the other side and they are afraid of carnivore river beings. Feathers is helpless also, since there are many predatory birds. Witches also sometimes fly there and they prefer cranes as a raw material for their potions."

To look for the corpse, he must take the boat. The SS Smurf II is too big and currently was on the docks. He went into Handy's workshop. There had to be something useful. Nothing. "Oh, silly me" said Papa Smurf. The canoe should be in the Scuba Smurf's hut or in the Handy's Dive hut. "Never mind. "This glue, hammer and nail will be useful, in a case of damage or wreckage." He took a quick walk towards the huts. There it was. He pulled it outside and tied it to the dock pole. I need to take some necessary goods for this expedition. Some magical powders and potions, smurf aid kit and a bag, the small coffin, the pick and a shovel.

He dumped all that in the canoe, jumped inside and started paddling. Handy, Scuba, Hefty, Painter and Papa Smurf used this canoe a lot to cross local waterways. He started paddling, not too slow, not to fast. He doesn't want to get tired so early. Old Smurfs incomparably bigger cardio then old humans, but they are still old. He needs to keep strength. Who knows how the current took the corpse far away. Who knows what might happen along the way. He reached the first rapids. He turn the canoe towards the small pebble bank. The body was there on the higher rocks in the rapids. Smurf blood is chemically aggressive for the rocks. It interreacts and leaves blue-earthy brown marks on the rock and stays several days, until bacterias eat it or decomposes all by itself, since that compound is unstable. So he knew that he has to look far more downstream.  
Papa Smurf took some magic powder from the bag and threw it into the air. It produced very weak bluegray coloration. "This means that the corpse is still far away. I could take a shortcut and do some other stuff too."

He has been planning a new walking trail in this areas for decades, but he never found proper time to organize that. He thought: "Well, now I have the chance to walk the route I had in mind. Handy will have the feedback. I am an experienced long distance bushwalker, now is the opportunity to solve this. Great. Two things in one action. At least some good news in this terrible day. I might see the attractiveness, ease of walking, clarity of the alignment and anything else smurfs might find notable. This new trail will join the old trail that is nearby. The old trail departed from a tributary of the East Smurf Beck near the smurf berry picking station. It is possible to paddle across the tributary, but that was off the expedition way. Papa Smurf walked along the old trail. It is safer here on the old trail. The voyage will be few hours longer, but better safe then sorry. Going along the path of the new trail will be much riskier. That new trail is necessary, because of the smurfwood exploatation. Also the stocks of the old clay for the smurf homes are exhausted too, and the old clay stations will run out of deposits in several months. The new unused layers are three days away. With the prepared trail, it would be much easier to extract it. New clay must be provided, since smurf mushroom homes desperately need regular seasonal repairing, since the rain and humidity washes off that clay that decomposes due to chemical reaction with the air, minerals in rain and aggressive mould. New clay and smurfwood locations are much unsafer. Coldwater crocodiles. Although the coldtwater crocodile population had substantially recovered since the King banned the hunting a decade previously, canoeing amongst them was not considered risky. Throughout the region, King's workshops commonly issued canoes and boats for serfs, taxmen and soldiers to undertake official duties."

Heavy canoe and the equipment made Papa Smurf to change his mind. "Ouph" said Papa Smurf, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "This takes too long. I'll take my chance and paddle along the tributary. Rapids are on the Smurf River, it's impossible to paddle there, and walking with all this along the trail is a too big effort. I want to reach some safe place before the dark." Unbeknownst to Papa Smurf, heavy rainfall upriver had begun to swell the East Smurf Beck. It happened without the stormy weather, behind the mountain. The river was soon to flood. Light rain had started to fall as Papa Smurf paddled away from the canoe launch point on the tributary. The rising water obscured landmarks. He couldn't locate the trailhead, and the rain got heavier. He saw a swamp bush with the big leaves, that made perfect hiding spot. He decided to spend the night there. He pulled the canoe inside it. There was the old nest. Great place for sleeping. Very safe. The plants around this bush evaporate ethereal oils that do not smell and do repel the animals. Papa Smurf pulled his canoe over in driving rain to a rock outcrop rising out of the swamp for a sodden snack. He was very hungry and tired.

In the dawn Papa Smurf woke up, ate sandwich and got again in the canoe. The rain did not stop whole night. Very soon dramatic events unfolded. Suddenly he experienced the thrilling feeling of being watched as a prey. Papa Smurf has never been a timid smurf. He was brave when he held speeches to his fellow smurfs and in his life too. Rather then returning to the safer old trail, he decided to explore a clear, deep channel closer to the river he traveled along several hours. He explored the channel, and waited. No predator to be seen. With a growing sense of unease, he decided to return to the canoe launch point at the East Smurf Beck. As Papa Smurf pulled the canoe out into the main current of the tributary, the torrential rain and wind started up again. "Good news", he thought. Suddenly swelling beck will carry me to the Smurf River Calms, where the rapids end and it's possible to explore directly along the Smurf River. "I will arrive to that point quicker", he thought. It had not gone more than seventeen minutes down the channel. Rounding a bend, Papa Smurf saw ahead of him in midstream what looked like a floating wrinkled log. I don't recall this paddling on my way here. As the current moved him toward it, the wrinkled log appeared to develop nose and eye protrusions, just above the waterline. Papa Smurf was close to it now but was not especially scared. Encounter with the coldwater crocodile Papa Smurf did not have in twenty years. This will add interest to this day.

Although Papa Smurf was paddling to avoid the crocodile, their paths were strangely convergent. He was aware that this was going to be close encountered, but he has not been prepared for the great blow that came against the side of the canoe. New blows happened. Again, and again, now from the back, shuddering the flimsy vessel. Papa Smurf paddled furiously. The blows continued. After a long time Papa Smurf felt being a prey to the coldwater crocodile. The canoe was under attack. "What should I do?" thought Papa Smurf, as he has been losing breath against the crocodile in full pursuit. Then he remembered that coldwater crocodiles are not very smart. Cold water affects their small limited brain and their evolved into a beings with less cognitive abilities. They do not make the difference from the floating vessel and proper food, and they simply attack first moving thing they focus on, no matter being edible or not. Papa Smurf realized that he has to get out of the canoe. Otherwise he risks being capsized or pulled into the deeper water of mid channel. I'll take my bag with me and prepare some potion to distract him. Every primitive predator is individual case and it's impossible to prepare some protecting potion in advance. One has to prepare it right on the spot. But that's not the imperative in this moment, I have to swim away. Papa Smurf tried to leap into the lower branches of a nearby smurfgrove tree. Wrong decision! As he leapt from the canoe, the coldwater crocodile burst from the water and dragged him down and into a scary death roll. Very few beings survived coldwater crocodile's death roll to describe it. An frightening experience beyond words. Terror, helplessness. Feeling through mind and body of imminent terrible death in the swirling depths. Papa Smurf had to think fast. He knew that this specie of reptiles generally is not suited to prolonged struggle. Their heart metabolism and breathing cannot last long. That's why their roll is an intense burst of power. The assault must end quickly, in initial phases. The victim must be surprised to quickly overcome its resistance. After that feebly struggling prey is held under the water. The time works for the crocodile. Metabolism can slow down, before eating and comatose phase. The prey is being drowned. Papa Smurf experienced a centrifuge of whirling, boiling blackness. It seemed it would tear his limbs from his body. The water was driving into his bursting lungs. It seemed that it lasted an eternity. It was getting beyond Papa Smurf's endurance. When he seemed all but finished, the crocodile suddenly stopped rolling. They were in a shallow place. He touched the bottom with his feet and his mouth found the surface. He strongly inhaled at air spluttering and coughing. He was still alive. But not over yet. The crocodile had him in its grip holding his hips. Papa Smurf was hugging the nearby tree, trying to hold himself above the water longer. The water was up to his neck. They stayed in that position for five minutes. Papa Smurf was still catching breath and resting, thinking what to do. When he begun to weep for the prospects of his mangled body a new death roll started. Crocodile suddenly pitched him into a new whirling terror. The second tearing terror did not last long as the first time. Papa Smurf's palms and then his head broke the surface and he sucked at air. The crocodile still had him in the grip. Papa Smurf resurfaced next to the branch of a crunchy sandwood growing in the water. He reached out and held onto the branch with all his strength. He could not stand that suffocating inferno. He would rather let the crocodile tear him apart.

Then Papa Smurf felt an deep ultrasound, first through his abdomen, then through his body, spreading to the limbs, head and tail. It came from crocodile's throat. "Not again", Papa Smurf thought to himself. He braced himself against the tree ready for another roll. Ten seconds passed he felt the grip got weaker. The comatose phase started to develop. Crocodile s jaws relaxed and crocodile was getting into the phase of a deep sleep and recovery. Papa Smurf was free. He used all his power to pull away from the crocodile, gripping the wood. He was not completely sure is the show still over. He dodged around the smurfswamp tree to avoid the mud bank. The only apparent escape route was to climb onto the smurfbark tree. Gripping the tree he started to leap on the branch. Papa Smurf was right. The nightmare repeated. The crocodile attacked again. It was like being in a monstrous closed circle impervious to any attempt of escape. The horror was repeating exactly in the same pattern of destruction. He was stuck fast in the mire of hopelessness. Daymare in which no will or endeavour was strong enough to get him out. He leapt into the branch, and crocodile propelled itself from the water, seizing him again, this time from the left side, biting the hips, with the teeth stabbed into his precious smurf tail. As a lightning struck through his brain, spine and eyes, he saw everything black in front of his eyes. He briefly felt a hot sensation before being again submerged. The round three in another death roll. Eventually it stopped. They both came up in the same place as previous times, next to that tree. Papa Smurf's lungs could not hold that much. He felt them burning, at the same time still feeling the painful lightning the flashed inside his head, with terrifying spasms, as if the needles pronged through his brain. He was growing weaker. Smurf tail is a week spot on the smurf. Besides terrible pain, it has effect when one receives unprepared receives strong blow in the solar plexus. Losing conscience, Papa Smurf was still aware of the events. It seemed that that crocodile is taking a long time to kill him. As if he intended to tear him apart slowly. He felt like a torn mouse in the jaws of fierce cat. Papa Smurf saw no scheme to get away. He was overpowered by angry great coldwater crocodile. He wanted this agony to end once and for all. But he had his helpless sleeping smurfs on his mind. He put them to sleep and made them helpless. "I should have rather done nothing. They would be still alive, aware of Baby Smurf's death, but able to survive. And I made them easy target. I cannot let them die like that." he thought to himself. Being out of any ideas, as agonizing pain from strongly pinched and bitten tail wasted all his oxygen resources, he decided to attack the crocodile with his free hands, releasing his grasp on the branch. He was feeling back behind with his hands the along the wrinkled head. He fumbled along the head two lumps. He supposed that these were crocodile's eye sockets and he jabbed his thumbs into them with all his might. The thumbs slid into warm holes that made no resistance. Were these the nostrils or the ears, the crocodile did not so much as flinch. Papa Smurf in despair resumed his hold on the tree trunk. After a time, crocodile jaws relaxed again and Papa Smurf pulled free.

Papa Smurf realized that he was in that enchanted circle because he was doing the same thing repeatedly. Coldwater crocodile is not intelligent but is able to associate simple things. This crocodiles specie are experts in solving the simple problems. They know one problem, they are able to recognize it and to solve it by battle-tested method. No one can beat them in that game. As crocodile's jaws relaxed the grip on his tail, Papa Smurf was able to think again. "That's it!" Papa Smurf thought with his last strengths. "Breaking the pattern is the solution! He knows only this situation and he does not know what to do in other situation. I must not climb back into the tree. The only way to safe is apparently wrong and impossible. I must go up the slippery mud bank." Although completely exhausted, he realized that crocodile is even more exhausted and resting only brings advantage to the crocodile. Papa Smurf threw ¸himself at bank with all of his failing strength, scrabbling with his hands for a grip, failing, sliding, falling back to the bottom, to the crocodile's waiting jaws. Second try. Papa Smurf almost made it. He slid back, braking his slide two-thirds of the way down by grabbing a tuft of grass. He hung there, exhausted, defeated. He thought again that he would not make it. He felt ashamed. After all he had been through. So many smart wizards, sorcerers, Kings, elves, evil genies, he had outsmarted them all. And now he was beaten by a retarded reptile. Crocodile would just had to come and get him. The grass tuft began to give way. Papa Smurf flailed wildly to stop himself from sliding farther. His fingers jammed into the soft mud, and that supported him. This is the clue for surviving. Wit the last of his strength, he climbed up the muddy bank, pushing his fingers into the mud to hold his weight, reached the top, with the blood trail from his tail. He stood up, incredulous.

The wheel of fortune turned this time on Papa Smurf's side. While mutually fighting, they made small waves that pushed the canoe towards the bank. With severe injuries, with his stuff tied to his belt, Papa Smurf took the canoe and began walking towards the Smurf River. Again everything was on him. No search party that would eventually find him and help him. Papa Smurf's ordeal was far from over. Paths and trails were flooded and the swollen waterways were almost impossible to navigate by canoe. But he knew that he has to get far away from the coldwater crocodile. After a while he embarked on a perilous voyage from East Smurf Beck to the Smurf River. "I must mark this in my notebook." said Papa Smurf to himself. We must put the warning signs for other smurfs on the smurfpath so no smurf gets into this ordeal with coldwater crocodiles.

Several days later Papa Smurf found the remains of the corpse. They were gray. Paddling from the Smurf Rivers Calms, there were no rapids and he was able to calmly observe the bank. Fortunately, the river pushed the smurf's body in the backwater. Few apples to the side and it would float along the river towards the waterfall half a mile downstream. As he paddled by the corpse, he saw some gold fishes that found the corpse. They were slowly chopping it, bit by bit. He chased them away with the paddle. Trying to hit the fishes, he accidentally bumped the smurf corpse. He had to move away from the remains of the Baby Smurf, while dealing with the fishes. In the meantime the river current pushed slowly the bloated corpse towards the bank. When he returned, the corpse has already been washed ashore. He jumped from the canoe, pulling it outside. Papa Smurf quickly made some forensic investigation right on the spot. The pieces of meat and soft tissue have been eaten by the fishes. The eyes were pecked by the river birds, that know instinctively what is still edible. There were signs of the strikes on the body. The body was beaten by the rocks. It was bumping as it passed through the rapids. The onesie was ripped on several places by the sharp rocks, bird's beaks, fish bites and small branches. When he finished, he took the small coffin that was tied in the canoe. He put the Baby Smurf's corpse in the coffin and closed it. No time for saying goodbye, no rites, no cleaning and preparing for the proper burial. He needs to entomb it in a secret place, far away from here. He had to do it and do it fast. There were signs of another weather change that will come in few days. The weather can sometimes tricky and the change happens quicker.

"There was a good reason why this river was called Damned River" sighed Papa Smurf. "We changed the name to this river since this name was rising questions among the Smurfs with all bad memories of tragic deaths that had occurred on this river."


	4. Chapter 4

Papa Smurf took the small coffin and the canoe. Big tasks were ahead of him. He had to safely entomb the coffin in a secret place, far away from this place, far away from smurfs and to return as soon as possible to the meadow and the village full of sleeping Smurfs. The signs of another weather change were correct. Bad weather was approaching again. These few days are usual when the change regularly happens. He needs to hurry if he wants to escape to the heavy rain. Feathers does not fly here, because this is not her territory and others of her kind might attack her. So going on foot is the only solution for Papa Smurf. Paddling is out of the question. Going upstream in this part of the Damned River is difficult. The big water and rolling waves are difficult to deal with. The calm green pools are small and they just punctuate whitewater features that dominate the lower part of the river.

Damned River is one of the trickiest free flowing rivers in the Smurf Land and cuts through a vast area of incredibly rugged Mount Roughsmurf wilderness.  
Around the Damned River is the marshy terrain and it has a timelessness and grandeur that can make human dizzy. Humans can not withstand that and they usually fell unconscious enchanted by the grandeur. Then they fell prey to bears, predatory birds and scavengers, weasels, wolfs and badgers. The impact is that strong that even the elves like Smurfs are affected. Ordinary smurf gets lost and many never find their way back. Only the seasoned whitewater connoisseur can go deep in this areas, like Papa Smurf. This river is undammed. Over miles and miles, over seven mountains and hills it is virtually untouched by human civilization. It is so big that also Smurf civilization has never reached all its parts. Early Smurfs called it as the "Big Creek of No Return". Strong rapids, a big, corridor set in a massive wilderness with peaks rising over a smurf miles above the river. Along the river various landscapes changing places: marshes, sandy banks, encircled by the forest gallery of fir and larch trees. Side streams are strong full of carps and cold water crocodiles. A ton on of wildlife including Big Unicorn Sheep, Two Headed Snake, Sabred Toothed Dragons.

As the storm gathers over the Mount Roughsmurf, it draws moisture from the Gulf of Smurf north into the center of the Smurf Land. With plenty of moisture and energy from the new storm tracking across the Deep Smurf, the possibility of flooding rainfall becomes reality. With so many thick gray clouds gathering, it means that it can become strong to severe. In a worst case scenario, the strongest thunderstorm may be able to produce strong wind gusts. "I must return as fast as I can" thought Papa Smurf to himself. "The eyewall of the storm has not reached the top of the Mount Roughsmurf, The Smurf's Head. That means that I have few more hours before the winds and rain come here. I have to find a good place for eating. Later it will be difficult to eat with the strong wind, rain, leaves and dust pummeling my face. With a lighter wind I may hide under the canoe. With strong wind I must hold the canoe, tie it to something solid, and to use my both hands. I also have to tie the tiny coffin and to keep my hat firmly on the head. I won't be able to eat with the both hands busy at the same time. " With the sack on his back, and canoe on his back, and coffin in his hand, Papa Smurf proceeded half an hour of walking until the next small meadow with the mossy log. He sat and took his meal, watching as the rain bands whipped the farther slopes of Mount Roughsmurf, crossing the peak and then whipping the closer slopes. Fortunately, the Smurf Village and the meadow where he left his fellow Smurfs sleeping were not on the path of the storm. Finishing his meal, Papa Smurf stood up, shaking the crumbs off his hands and took his belongings. There was a long way to go until the navigable part of Smurf River. Until there there was no caves to hide. The wind soon began howling and groaning in Smurf Forest, bending and toppling trees to its will. Carrying the coffin in his hands was becoming more and more difficult. After some time his hands betrayed him. He could no longer hold the coffin in his hands. He turned around and decided to drag the coffin. With strong wind, blowing from all sides in his face, he tied the end of the coffin with the rope. He then turned and continued walking, dragging the coffin over the muddy path.

At first the rain was helpful. It turned the soil into the mud, lubricating it so dragging was easier. Next hour of walk was nice, though somewhat uphill. After quarter of hour of walking he reached the bold, almost flat top of the elevation. "Finally" said Papa Smurf looking at the mild downhill part. "This part will be easier". He made the first leap, slipped and fell backwards on the ground, releasing the rope. Sudden move made his sack fly ten smurf feet away. The canoe fell nearby Papa Smurf. The small coffin slided slowly downwards, then deccelerated, then slided again quicker and quicker. "Ouph" uttered Papa Smurf. "I'll take it." He walked towards the coffin but then coffin accelerated. He made his step faster, but not able to catch the coffin that was quicker and quicker. Papa Smurf ran towards it, slipping again, this time forwards and he fell on the coffin. He was now on the ride of a smurf sleigh with his head first. "Ohhh my smuuuuurfffff" The slope was fortunately mild, but enough big to give enough speed. Smurfsled slided quick towards the shrub and pebbled terrain. He slamed into the bush. The natural shrub hedge slowed the smurfbobsled a lot, but that did not enought to prevent the strong thwack against the sandstone rocks that were jutting between the shrubs. The coffin slammed against one, rock cracked, as well as the coffin. Coffin made a turn in the air and bumped on the pebbled path. Tiny babysmurf body was visible through the cracks. Papa Smurf was scratched everywhere from flying through the shrub. His clothes were slightly thorned by brushing up against a thorny shrub. He left the coffin and returned back for the sack. "I'll leave the canoe there. I can't hold two heavy thing in my hands at the same time. This taught me a lesson." As he went uphill, the blood leaked through his wounds. When returning downhill, he was much careful. By the time he was back down, the bruises appeared all over his body.

Ahead of him were reeds and plush grasses that grew in thick and verdant patches. The path was not flat but pebbled. He pulled the rope and dragged the coffin behind him. It was still in one piece, though the rain and mud were leaking into the coffin and drenched the smurfling corpse. The dragged coffin was bouncing on the pebbles, making sounds. As the bouncing coffin made it bounce, the corpse in the coffin was also rattling inside. The body made the thumping sound, while the unproportionally big smurf head of the corpse made that tock-tock rattle sound, as it turned left-right and hit the coffinwalls. Draggin the coffin over the rocky road and past the shrubs made it got several long light scratches along the lateral and bottom sides.

Fortunately for Papa Smurf, the rain was still no more than a heavy sprinkle. After few hours of walking, shrubs was less present, and trees were more regular feature. Thorny bending willows were bending now over him on the path. "This is that ditch. Smurfland is not far away. Just behind that far knob and we are safe." said Papa Smurf to himself. The wounds from the fall slowly healed and they were not bleeding anymore. The bruises were still painful. The path was now overgrown with high bushes. The branches whipped his face as he walked through. He realized then that his nose was bruised and broke the nose cartilage. Papa Smurf took the coffin from the ground, without any gentleness and put it ahead of him as a shield. "This will protect me. What a good idea." The high bushes scraped along the sides of the small coffin and Papa Smurf's forearms and back of his hands. It was painful. It opened some already healed wounds and opened the new ones. "Soon this will be over, I see the end of this thick bush". Papa slowly but firmly advanced. He was so happy that he got his calculations wrong. The overgrown path that really needed trimming, made a sharp turn right. Papa thought that it lead straight. What a mistake! Papa tripped over something under his foot. That was the edge of the path. An old rock - the pathmark, that was covered in moss, vines and flowers so he was not able to recognise it through the high bush, high grass and hanging branches of the trees. As he tripped, and fell forwards, he dropped the coffin that fell across the edge into the overgrown ten apples deep gully. A slshhh was heard as the coffin flew in the air and then flew through the vines into the depth of the gully. When it hit the bottom, and a strong crack and light splash was heard. A small shallow streamlet was flowing over the small but sharp rocks at the bottom. Papa Smurf could feel the air that streamlet cooled on his cheeks. Being fed from freshlets, the streamlet was very cold and made the small gully very cold, and coolness was climbing up. Papa Smurf lost no time. He fast made the rope of the vines, tied it to the tree, wrapped it around himself and slowly descended with his chest towards the steep slope, holding the vine-rope with his hands, with his head turned looking back looking for the coffin. Soon he find it. There it was, cracked completely open, with the corpse aside, with the slightly deformed head with the tongue sticked outside. Papa Smurf continued slowly descending. Then he heard some other regular splashing sound, the sound that produces someone who walks through the shallow water.


End file.
